Ruby Skies and Emerald Oceans
by tuneless.melody
Summary: Hermione Granger is 21 years old and happy until her boyfriend Ron Weasley cheats on her and they break up. To get revenge she comes up with a plan which involves a poor soul playing her fake boyfriend. Of course, she doubted that Draco Malfoy had a soul.
1. The Big Headed Ferret

**Author's Note: **Well, I've been going through a Draco/Hermione phase lately and I decided that I would finally try my hands at writing one. Okay, this takes place about 4 years after the end of the epic battle aka the ending of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows._ Everything in this story follows the canon events, minus that epilogue. Let's just pretend that there wasn't even one. Okay? ;D

Oh, and if I screw up on making it sound British, don't be afraid to tell me, because I am American, so yeah…Please enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I have never and will never own Harry Potter. Everything belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling.

**Ruby Skies and Emerald Oceans**

Chapter One: The Big Headed Ferret

From what little could be seen of the world outside of the hospital, it was raining and it was raining hard. Hermione Granger's medically trained dirt brown eyes peered out the small box of a window, watching as pelts of water came down from the gray sky. Of course, the magical piece of glass remained spot free, as it served more as a mirror of the current weather than what was actually going on outside.

Her mind drifted off, thinking of Harry and Ginny's upcoming wedding and of the fact that in a few weeks it would officially be four years since she and Ron started dating. Had it really been four years since Voldemort had been destroyed and the Wizarding World had been given the chance to be reborn? Impossible, yet it was true.

_Tap, tap, tap_.

A clipboard was flying around Hermione's head, the point of the attached quill lightly hitting the board and the parchment clipped on it flapping. This soft sound of quill against board was enough to yank the 21 year old brunette healer out of her musings and to focus her attention, instead, on the young man sitting on the white hospital bed flexing his newly healed arm.

"I'm terribly sorry Oliver, I guess I was daydreaming. What did you just say?" asked Hermione, grabbing the clipboard out of the air and handing it to the man to sign.

"Oh, I just said that I'm glad you were my healer, because that other woman…the one with the American accent and long black hair was scary," said Oliver Wood, laughing as he scribbled his name with practiced ease.

"Yeah, Kendra is certainly an individual. I do believe it is her life's mission to flirt with as many men as possible. But, in the future, if she's your nurse, just lie and say you're married or something. Because I doubt any other excuse would be valid with her."

"Well, I don't think I will have to lie to her," grinned the Quidditch player. At Hermione's questioning look, he continued, "Alicia and I have been married for a year now. Geez, Hermione, don't you ever read the _Prophet_?"

Before she could respond however, the door opened and a tall black haired woman, looking to be about Hermione's age, entered the room; her bright blue eyes were glinting with a mixture of happiness and mischief. "Hermione, I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's another patient awaiting your expertise. When you're done with this one; if y'know what I mean." She giggled and then winked one of her eyelids, the make up causing a bizarre glittering effect.

A look of utter repulsion crossed over Hermione's make up free face, "Kendra, do you really think that I have so little confidence in myself that I'll advance on any man that will stay still long enough? I value myself and my job too much to flirt with my patients—especially if they're _married_."

Hermione's annoyed mini-speech just caused Kendra to giggle even more and only one word seemed to stick with her when she had stopped her Valley Girl-esque laughter. "You're married?" she asked Oliver, her face falling noticeably and after he nodded, she continued talking, more to herself than anybody else. "All the good looking guys are either tied down or gay. It's always the case."

"Anyways, I'm done here…where's that next patient?" The annoyed former Gryffindor girl asked, after Oliver had left the ward.

"Ward 15, on this floor. It was an accident with a Dark Arts object," Kendra said, now waving her wand around in order to help Hermione tidy up the room.

After having completed this task, they walked out of the room and the door to Ward 7 closed with a snap behind them. "So, what can you tell me about this patient? I'm guessing the clipboard is in the room."

"You guessed correctly! Well, I can tell you this much. If his head could have fit through the supply closet door, I would be in there making out with him." Kendra, who had gone to a wizarding school in North America, still had not gotten the hang of using "Brit speak" or so she called it.

The brunette healer rolled her eyes, but nodded, knowing that it was fruitless to try and make her say "snogging," which sounded a bit more dignified in Hermione's opinion. "So, I guess you're trying to say that he's good looking and the problem is a gigantic head," she said, translating Kendra-speak to intelligent-speak.

"Oh, Hermione, you are right on the target. And he is such a hottie and I don't mean he has a fever." The two girls had come to a stop in front of a door where a small plaque relayed to them what room they were at. "Well, Ward 15. This is it." She opened the door and stepped in.

Hermione shot her fellow healer a weird look: They were after all going to tend to a patient, not meet their doom. Walking into the room, a clipboard flew towards her, the attached quill swinging dangerously. She was about to look at the piece of parchment when she noticed the patient.

A man was lying on the bed which had been, along with the room itself, magically enlarged in order to fit his very, very, _very_ large head. Hermione gaped at the bizarre specimen of a patient she had been lucky enough to witness. "It's huge," she breathed finally after what seemed like hours of silence.

"I know, why do you think I'm here?" drawled a voice which Hermione deducted had come from the enlarged head. The man made an effort to sit up, which must have been hard seeing as his head now probably weighed more than his body.

Hermione grabbed the clipboard out of the air and studied it, her eyes widening when coming to the words after _Patient's Name_.

Draco Malfoy.

If the clipboard hadn't been enchanted to stay in the air no matter what, it surely would have clanged to the ground. Hermione had let go of it, as though the thing had burned her, surprise having taken over her very being at the sight of those two words: Draco Malfoy.

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione repeated for a third time, this time out loud.

At the mention of his name the patient tried and failed to raise his head up. "At your service, Mudblood." The insulting word that he had used on her so many times while they were in school had never hurt less. Malfoy was losing his touch.

"What did you call me, Ferret?" She smirked and he sneered, though even that seemed to have been done half-heartedly. "What's wrong? Gone soft after Voldemort's defeat?"

He looked back at her with a cold indifference, steel colored eyes meeting wood colored ones. _Don't blink, don't blink_, Hermione thought to herself, not sure why the sight of Malfoy brought up such competitiveness in her.

"Well, Hermione, looks like you have this covered," said Kendra, walking towards the door. Hermione and Malfoy blinked and looked up at her; they had both forgotten that she was still in the room.

"Er, right. See you later Kendra," said Hermione, grabbing the clipboard out of the air again.

"Oh, and Drakkie. When your head shrinks to its normal size…find me." Kendra winked back at them and then left.

"I most certainly will not," spat Draco's enlarged head in apparent displeasure. "Of all the annoying skanks to have been made a healer, they chose the one with no brains at all. It's like talking to a stupider version of Pansy."

"She can act like an airhead at times, but she's a healer. Kendra's actually a lot smarter than she lets off. If she wasn't, she wouldn't be working here. And, _don't_ compare her to Parkinson." Hermione didn't have any explanation for why she defended Kendra, whom she had called "annoying skank" on numerous occasions, other than the fact that it was Draco Malfoy that had done the insulting.

"Well, let's get down to business _Drakkie_," started Hermione, smirking as his middle finger shot up in the air, his head still lying off the end of the bed like a white hot air balloon. "How have you been since I last saw you? What has it been…four years now? A very eventful night that was: what with Voldemort being defeated, Crabbe setting us on fire, and watching Death Eaters fall to the ground like flies. So how are Mommy and Daddy? And all the poor house elves that you unceremoniously kick around your stupid dark manor?"

"One, Granger, I'm good, thanks for asking since I know you were oh-so-concerned. Two, 'Mommy and Daddy' are just fine…though if I ever called them that they would not be. Three, I grew out of house elf kicking when I was 8. Four, I don't even live in the manor anymore, I'm a grown man. And five, why don't you shut the hell up and do your bloody job?" Draco was growing irritated and for some weird reason, this delighted Hermione. He was at her mercy; she could blow up his head with one flick of her wand. Though, that would probably land her job-less and in Azkaban.

"Oh fine. I'll do my job; you're no fun when your head is 100 times its normal size," Hermione sighed and picked up the clipboard, plopping down in a wooden chair next to the bed. "So, how did this obvious tragedy happen? I mean, I didn't think that after all that business with Voldemort, you would ever be an arrogant git again. But I was wrong, your ego really did get larger, and it inflated your head along with it."

If Hermione could see his face, which remained the same size even though his head did not, she would have seen that he was glaring daggers at the ceiling, the only place he could look.

"Shall I start at the beginning? Will that make you happy and finally allow you to do your damn job?" asked Draco dryly.

"Oh, please do. I've always loved a good story!" she smiled at him and waved a hand he could not see to tell him to proceed.

He narrowed his eyes, but then spoke in a flat, uninterested voice, as though he would want nothing more than to Avada Kedavra his healer right then and there. "Okay. Once upon a time, the Ministry was very stupid and decided that they would make you go through hell and back to become an Auror. At the same time in a dark manor, a 19 year old boy was deciding that he would try to be an Auror. He then passed the incredibly difficult Character and Aptitude Tests, which of course were no problem for him since he was blessed with amazing brains as well as good looks—"

"And incredible modesty as well," Hermione interrupted sarcastically.

"Shut your pie hole, Mudblood. Anyways, then he started his three years of difficult training. He successfully completed two years and was on his third. Then, a bloke by the name of Proudfoot led the small group of Aurors-in-training on a raid of the Nott family's house. One of the items found was a crown that inflated the wearer's head to the size of a hippopotamus. The End. Happy, Granger?"

Hermione clapped, a smirk making its way across her lips. "A sense of humor, who knew you had it in you? And a creative knack for story telling as well! I'm impressed."

"Don't go insulting me, Granger. I just spend way too much time with that dolt Potter and his faithful sidekick Weasel these days. The excruciatingly long hours with those of incredibly low intelligence makes me regret my career choice." Draco sighed so heavily it was as if every second he talked about this topic, the more pain it caused him.

"You're the most entertaining patient I've had all week Ferret! I'm going to regret shrinking your head. It'll probably pop the brain cells back into place and you'll turn into your regular ugly self again. Pity."

Hermione was incredibly cheerful now, the rain outside turning to a light drizzle. For some odd reason, Draco Malfoy's presence was more of a comfort than an annoyance, the opposite of what she thought it would be. She felt young, reckless, and free-spirited again, something she had not felt since her 6th year at Hogwarts.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Gryffindork? I didn't come to St. Mungo's to be annoyed to death," Draco drawled, his neck now feeling a lot of pressure from the large mass that was his head. Already he could tell that it was going to be a very long day.

* * *

"Ahhh! Damn it all!"

Hermione watched with unmasked interest as the enemy from her school days writhed around in obvious pain and discomfort, his head now considerably smaller than it was when he had first arrived.

She checked her wristwatch; it was midnight now and six hours had passed since he had taken the shrinking potion. Until an hour ago, Hermione had been in and out of the room to check up on his progress. However, she had been asked to stay with him until his head had shrunk to its normal size and being a person who took her work seriously, Hermione had agreed.

"Are you sure you made that potion correctly? This isn't at all the feeling that I got when I took a swig of the Deflating Draft when Goyle's potion exploded in second year," complained Draco, clutching at the bedpost in an effort to keep some grasp on reality.

"Of course I made it correctly! I'm a professionally trained healer," scoffed Hermione, folding to page 3 of the evening _Daily Prophet_, having entirely skipped an article about the Chudley Canons on page 2. "The reason why it takes so long is because your head was the size of a bloody elephant. As for the reason why it hurts so much, let's just say that if a Dark Object was involved, you're lucky it's working at all."

"But Granger, my eyes, they burn. I think I'm going blind!"

"You do complain a lot, especially since it was your own fault that you put the tiara on," Hermione pointed out, not looking up from an article that bore the headline: _Percy Weasley Announced as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic_.

"Don't say 'tiara,' it sounds disgusting. And I did not put that wretched thing on. You can blame your moronic boyfriend Weasel for that. Don't give me that look Granger. I have every right to be angry with him. He's asleep in his own bed at the moment, where as I'm in the hospital having my head shrunk to its normal size. And all because some half brained git decided that it would be funny if he placed the crown onto my head. What an effing—"

"Tsk, tsk, Malfoy. We really must work on that temper of—"

"Don't 'tsk' me woman!" interrupted Malfoy.

"Whatever. The point is, since this was all Ron's fault, I guess I will do my best to put up with you until your head is its normal size again."

"Thank you. Not like you have a choice, I'm paying for this after all…"

"But, it's kind of depressing," Hermione continued on, as though he hadn't spoken, "That you see more of Harry and Ron than I do myself. Well, Harry is one thing, but Ron and I have been together for years now...Oh, how did you know he was my boyfriend? Does he talk about me?" Her face lit up, swelling with pride.

"Not really. He's never really mentioned his girlfriend before. But, everybody knows, you two are bloody perfect for each other. The weasel and the beaver…"

Hermione bit her lip, feeling angry—not because of the insult, she overlooked that, but because Ron never seemed as happy to be with her as she was to be with him. And this was proof; she talked about him to her coworkers. Why didn't he explode with happiness like her? _Well, of course he's happy, there's no reason I should doubt him. He loves me after all…_Hermione thought, pushing all negative thoughts out of her brain. "Well, what about you Mr. Ferret? Have you settled down with a woman yet?"

"Hardly. I was engaged though, but that broke two years ago…about the time I started training."

"You were engaged? To whom?" Hermione could not keep the tone of surprise out of her voice, as it came to a shock to her that Draco Malfoy the Slytherin Prince would allow himself to be tied down at such a young age.

"You honestly don't know? Do you ever read _Witch Weekly?_" When Hermione shook her head "no," Draco's smirk grew. "Well, I guess it explains a lot." He waved a hand as if to say that her lack of fashion and feminism stemmed from not reading the magazine. "I pick it up every once in a while, to keep up on the gossip. They named me one of the top ten young wizard bachelors last year."

"Congratulations?"

"Whatever. I can practically hear your smirk. Anyways, they really kept the wizarding world informed on my arranged engagement to Astoria Greengrass." Draco sighed, playing with the sleeve of his hospital robes.

"Who?"

"You're lucky you didn't know her. Girl was dumber than a bag of rocks. She actually needed directions to navigate herself across a room. Nice to look at, but every second I was around her, I could feel one more brain cell dying."

Hermione laughed, ignoring the gnawing feeling at her gut that clearly told her, _Run away and don't come back, this kid's trouble._ He didn't seem that bad to her. Could it be true that he had changed? Maybe from being around Harry so much. She looked back at Draco, who was continuing on with his story.

"So, as you can see, I just had to end it. I had had enough of unintelligent people back in Hogwarts what with Crabbe and Goyle following me everywhere. Father was upset, since it was he who had been so strong about our marriage," Draco scoffed at the word, "working. Of course, the Greengrasses are an incredibly respected pureblood family. I'm sure our children would have been very…"

"Pure?" Hermione offered, turning the page.

"Yeah, pure idiots," he said.

She chuckled and looked up from the paper. His hair and skin looked shockingly white in the moonlight, like a piece of art or a corpse. She almost wanted to touch him to be sure he was real and not a ghost. He looked so peaceful, so…beautiful.

"Granger?"

Hermione blinked, just now realizing she had been staring at him. Of course, he didn't know, as his eyes were directed at the ceiling and nowhere else. But despite knowing this, she turned faintly pink and looked back to her paper. "What?"

"Are we bonding?" Draco asked, a small smirk making its way across his small face and inflated head.

Hermione allowed a smile to cross her face. Yes, in fact, one could consider them as bonding, but instead she said, "You should get to sleep. It won't hurt as much that way." She handed him a small vial that was labeled _Sleeping Draft_.

Draco's steady breathing and soft snores filled the ward, which left Hermione to flip through the rest of the _Daily Prophet_ without any arrogant patient to keep her company. She cast another look at him, looking so peaceful with his abnormal sized head.

Hermione's eyes found what she was looking for: a skinny column on page 14 that was titled _Dear Ginny: Advice from the Holyhead Harpies Chaser, Ginny Weasley._ The brunette smiled to herself, thinking of her red-headed friend. After graduating from Hogwarts, she had been offered a spot on the all-witch team, the Holyhead Harpies. In the last year, Ginny had also expressed a desire to join the staff of the wizarding newspaper. She had slowly made her way up from printer to layout assistant to becoming "Dear Ginny."

Having never been interested in the woes of middle-aged witches, which usually had to do with incorrectly cast garden spells, Hermione skimmed through the questions and answers. She was about to turn the page, when she saw the last question and its answer:

_Dear Ginny_,

A new employee has recently been added to my department. At first glance, I thought he looked vaguely familiar, but upon hearing his name I realized that we had gone to Hogwarts together. He had been the bully who had constantly called me names and made fun of me. However, it's been 10 years and he seems different, more mature. Do you think I should give him a chance? Or treat him the same as 10 years ago?

_--Skeptic Schoolgirl_

_Skeptic Schoolgirl_,

Not knowing how much your childhood enemy changed, I can't promise that my advice will be the correct one for this situation. However, in situations like this, I always say that the best thing to do is give the other person a chance. People screw up everyday and people _can _learn from their screw-ups and become better individuals. I think it would be _immature _to not give him a second change, and even worse to treat him like he's an awful person. Maybe go out for lunch or tea, you never know, you might gain a friend. And if he's the same jerk as before, you didn't really lose anything.

_--Ginny_

Draco let out a snore like a foghorn and Hermione jumped, tearing the paper which she had been gripping tightly. Ginny's words echoed in Hermione's brain: _People screw up everyday…go out for lunch or tea…you didn't really lose anything._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note, Again: **Well, there was Chapter 1. It was kind of boring…more like setting the scene and stuff. Hope you enjoyed it though. And I'm sorry if it's not really, really, funny, despite the genre being Romance/Humor. Think of it more as a romantic comedy. Please review. :]


	2. Infidelity on the Wedding Night

**Author's Note: **Thank you to everybody who added this story to their favorites and alerts. :] It makes me really happy. Thank you especially to those people who reviewed and I hope that more of you will review in the future! :]

Please enjoy Chapter 2!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. Sorry to disappoint!

**Ruby Skies and Emerald Oceans**

Chapter Two: Infidelity on the Wedding Night

Over the next month, Draco had managed to land himself in St. Mungo's Hospital at least once a week. Each time, Hermione had been his healer—whether it was by pure chance or by his own request, she did not know. Though, Hermione seriously doubted that Draco enjoyed her company half as much as she enjoyed his.

She found him entertaining, mysterious, and actually rather witty once he got talking and not insulting. He always had a new story about the "horrors of Auror training" to tell her. And when he had exhausted that topic, he would just talk about his week in his flat, bored, sarcastic voice.

Maybe it was because her friends were always too busy to talk to her or because her own work place was free of interesting stories (unless you counted Kendra talking about the different ways she dragged her male patients into supply closets), but Hermione often found herself attached to his stories like a dying person to a life support machine.

Each time Draco ended up in a hospital ward, he left it by shoving galleons into Hermione's hands. At first this confused her, seeing as he wasn't supposed to pay her, but the front desk and she had thought that he was merely confused himself. After she mentioned this to him on his next visit, he had shrugged and given her even more extra money than he had the first time.

After the third time this happened, Hermione finally decided to ask him about it.

"Oh, consider it as tip. For keeping me entertained," he had said. "You could also say that it's charity."

"Charity?" Hermione had echoed back to him.

"Yeah. I mean, think of it as the Robin Hood Syndrome—you know… the wizard who gave to the poor and took from the rich."

"I didn't know that Robin Hood was a wizard. There are many muggle stories written about him."

"Right. Like I care Granger. Anyways, consider it as me giving to those of poorer…blood." He had smirked when he had finished speaking, his eyes glinting when he caught sight of the anger in her eyes.

"Ugh. You will never change. You act like you're doing a nice thing, but it's only so you can use it as a new means of making somebody feel below you. You make me sick, you…you…inbred pure-blood!" With that, she had stalked away, 10 galleons chinking together happily in her robe pocket.

Despite her anger at his reasoning, Draco kept on giving her a tip every visit—something that surprised, yet pleased her.

* * *

"How come it's always _you_ who ends up in a hospital bed as a byproduct of your crazy 'Auror Adventure Accidents'? You said that there are four other Aurors-in-training...but it's always you. Always! Why is that?" Hermione asked, spraying a potion on a large cut that was oozing green blood and yellow pus.

Wincing from the sting, Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione cut him off before he could utter a sound.

"Oh, wait. Don't tell me. It's because you were such a complete arsehole all your years at Hogwarts. I guess it's just karma then," Hermione said, gleefully waving her wand across the wound.

"Car what?"

"Karma. It's an Indian philosophy that muggles believe in. It basically means that everything will come back to you in the end. Example: You were a prat during school, so now you've had your head inflated, grown an extra arm out of your back, been poisoned, and been attacked by dragons." She pointed her wand free hand at his almost healed cut. "Just to name a few. Like I said—karma."

"Well you shouldn't be complaining about it," said Draco. "My injuries equal extra money for you. In fact, you probably _pray_ to Merlin that I keep on getting into these freak accidents. Please say you don't do that. I would probably kill you if you did…and that would look horrible on my records."

"It's so touching to know that the only thing that would make you feel guilty about killing me is the fact that you would lose your future job."

"Well, it would probably be no fun to go to Azkaban, now that I think about it…"

Hermione allowed herself to smile, tapping her wand on the wound that was now shining with red blood. She was muttering under her breath in Latin, trying to make the blood stop and the wound close up onto itself.

"Watch it Granger," Draco growled, when she had jabbed his cut with her wand. He had swatted her hand away on instinct.

"What was that for? Merlin, talk about immature. It's just a little bit of pain; be a man for once in your life. Now I have to start all over again." Hermione sighed, starting from the beginning of the healing chant.

"So…did you spend your extra money yet?" he asked, watching Hermione, whose face was screwed up in concentration, with interest. She shook her head, observing his wound with bated breath as the blood slowly dried up. "What are you gonna save it for then? A new _book_?"

Hermione looked up to roll her eyes at the smirking blonde. "As a matter of fact…no. I do have interests besides books and studying you know."

"Maybe. But you can't buy Weasels with money, you know."

"What in Dumbledore's name does that even mean?" asked Hermione, an annoyed expression on her face.

"Who knows?" Draco shrugged, the hint of a smile threatening to cross his lips, but he quickly turned it into a scowl. "So, I'm assuming that you're going to the wedding of Potty and the She-Weasel."

"You assumed correctly. What about yourself? Are you going to _Harry and Ginny's_ wedding? I mean…Harry's your coworker, but this wedding is pretty important as well. Maybe you'll go just to see history in the making?"

The cut on Draco's knee was slowly closing, a new layer of skin growing over it. He was watching this magic at work, but looked up to answer Hermione's question. "Yeah, I'm going—keeping up appearances, showing a good face, that kind of thing. Father says that participating in social gatherings like this will be beneficial for my rep." He smirked, adding, "However, I guess another plus of going is to grab a program or a napkin or something. I could sell it in the future at an antique shop."

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, glaring at him. "So, you're coming then? You're not going to shout 'I object' when the wedding official says 'Speak now or forever hold your peace'…right?"

"Well, I surely can't make any promises. It's always fun to screw around with Potter." A playful twinkle appeared in Draco's eyes. He hopped off the white hospital bed and pulled from his pocket a black velvet drawstring money pouch.

"Oh, you really don't need to…" Hermione started, though her hand had shot out expectantly. She flushed in embarrassment.

Draco grinned smugly, handing her 12 gold galleons. "Geez, Granger. You're so impatient…" With that, he walked out of the ward, hands stuffed in his pocket and that smug grin still on his face.

* * *

"Aren't you nervous?" Hermione asked Ginny, who was sitting on a chair in a simple, yet elegant, long white gown.

"Kind of. Though…to be honest, I thought I would be more nervous. Because so many women talk about how they got cold feet in the last few days and basically had to force themselves down the aisle. Even Fleur said that," Ginny, who was placing her Great Aunt Muriel's tiara on her red hair which had just been styled by Luna Lovegood, replied.

"Well, you have known Harry for a long time," smiled Luna. "I think that maybe this is just the natural next step. Of course you must be careful at weddings, there are a lot of wrackspurts that fly around and as you know they make your brain go all fuzzy—"

"Right, I'll watch out for those Luna," Hermione interrupted, turning back to look at Ginny.

"But she's right about me and Harry. I guess that's why I feel so…calm. I'm sure this is how you'll feel when you and Ron get married!"

"Oh, has he proposed already?" Luna asked, eyes wide.

"Er, no not yet," Hermione muttered.

"Well, it's just a matter of time," said Ginny, smiling and patting Hermione's hand.

"Oh, speaking of time, Gin. I was wondering—do you think that Draco Malfoy has changed since we were at Hogwarts?"

"Hmm, interesting you bring this up. Harry and I talk about it a lot, because they work together. He thinks that Malfoy has changed and while I'm not exactly sure if this is true or not, I'm going to believe Harry. Because, they hated each other so much, you know?"

Hermione nodded her head slowly. "He seems different. He seems like less of a jerk these days."

"Yes, he actually acknowledges my presence when he sees me," said Luna, a far off expression on her face. "And he doesn't call me 'Loony' to my face anymore. It makes me happy."

"Well, that _is _an improvement," Ginny said, smirking.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak when the door to Ginny's room opened and Mrs. Weasley popped her head into the room. "It's time."

* * *

The wedding ceremony had passed by rather smoothly, except for Draco Malfoy getting up and saying "I object" when the Minsitry official had asked for anybody who had problems with the marriage to speak. Everybody's eyes had widened and Hermione had actually heard Harry groan. Of course, Draco had then said that he was "just kidding and to get on with the damn thing because he was hungry."

Even when the Ministry official had continued with his speech, there was one person who kept on glaring at Draco. Ron had spent the rest of the ceremony muttering obscenities and death threats which Hermione knew were directed towards the former Slytherin.

After the ceremony, Ron had disappeared somewhere (Hermione suspected a place where he could sulk and vent out his anger) and she had been left to go find a place to sit and eat. This was the reason why she was currently sitting next to the person who was responsible for Ron's anger.

"What did you think of the ceremony?" Draco asked in his normal condescending drawl.

"Well, it was lovely until _you_ ruined it," Hermione glared.

"Me? What did I do? I personally think that it is your fault since you put the idea in my head. Plus, I told you that I enjoy screwing with Potter," he smirked, cutting his chicken into small pieces.

"For the love of Merlin…" she sighed.

"Speaking of love…where's Weasel? Shouldn't you two be sitting together or snogging in some corner?"

"Ron went…somewhere. He stalked off after the ceremony. I think the sight of you repulsed him so much that he had to go throw up," the brunette girl informed him, sticking her nose in the air as though to say that Draco should drop this topic.

However, he did not drop it, instead he said, "I doubt it; people usually feel worthless and in awe when they are around my great presence." Hermione gave him a 'where did you get that kind of idea' look but Draco continued, "Yes, I think that the Weasel King ran away from the sight of you. Maybe he's finally come to his senses."

"Whatever, Ferret," she muttered, playing with her string beans.

"DRAKKIE," a shrill voice cried out. Hermione looked around to find the source, but Draco slid down in his seat in a very un-Malfoy like way.

The Gryffindor girl raised an eyebrow and looked down at his sinking slender figure. She was about to say something when Draco shushed her, "Shut up Granger. We have to be discreet. Don't give my position away or I'll beat your sorry arse later."

"What are you so worried about anyways?" she whispered back to him.

"Because," he started in a voice that one would use when speaking to somebody whose brain was incredibly slow, "it might be Pansy or that skanky healer or even worse—"

Hermione never got to hear how worse it could be, because at that moment a tall, curvy 20 year old girl was standing right in front of them, the table being the only thing stopping her from coming any closer.

"Drakkie, what are you doing? Are the legs on this table as nice as mine? Is that why you're almost under it?" she asked, twirling her long blonde hair in her fingers. She picked up the tablecloth to look under the table.

A shocked expression crossed Hermione's face, her eyes widening and her mouth hanging open. Did this girl seriously think that Draco was in love with the table legs or something?

"Hello Astoria," he said, a look of annoyance mixed with disgust on his face. He had sat up straight, now that his hiding place was exposed.

Astoria...Hadn't Draco mentioned that name about a month back? Hermione tried to think who exactly she was. Oh! "You're Astoria Greengrass, Draco's…"

"Fiancé!" Astoria finished the sentence for her.

"I thought you were his ex-fiancé. Didn't you two break up two years ago?"

"Yeah, we did," Draco said. "Don't ask me what this lunatic is thinking."

Astoria pouted, putting her hands on her hips, "Oh Drakkie. Don't say such cruel words, baby. And you:" She turned to glare at Hermione, "Don't talk about things you don't understand, you filthy Mudblood."

"Excuse me?" demanded Hermione.

"You heard me. Anyways, I have to go. There are so many good looking men here. I just love weddings. Toodles Drakkie," said Astoria, waving her hand and walking away.

"So…that's who your dad wanted you to marry?" Hermione asked Draco, watching the blonde girl walk over to Blaise Zabini.

Draco nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Every time I'm around her, I feel myself becoming stupider. I swear to Merlin…"

* * *

The last wedding guest—a very drunk Hagrid—had finally left the Burrow at 1 in the morning. This left only the Weasley family and Hermione, who was spending the night. At the moment, she was cleaning the garden with all of the family except for Ginny, Harry, and Ron. Hermione had only seen Ron once during the reception; he had been eating food and talking with George. However, when Hermione had finished eating and gone to find him, he had again disappeared.

"Put that table in the stack over there Hermione dear," Mrs. Weasley said, waving her wand around as used silverware and spilt food disappeared.

Hermione nodded, saying "_Wingardium Leviosa._" The table rose and landed in a stack of the other tables, where Charlie stood, waiting to enchant them all to fit into a small bag.

When all the cleaning had been completed and the garden was back to its normal, wild state, Hermione turned to Mrs. Weasley and said, "Have you seen Ron? I haven't talked to him since the ceremony."

"Ron's in his room," answered George, nodding his head back to the Burrow. "He was in a bad mood today, but what else is new? The prat."

She thanked him and excused herself, running to the doors of the tall and crooked house. As she walked up the rickety staircase, she hoped that Ron was calm enough to be around. He had a hot temper; everybody knew that. In the past, Hermione's presence would usually make Ron even angrier. Ever since the two started going out though, things had been different. She had taught him to deal with his temper and she had learned what to say and what not to say in those situations.

Hermione finally came to a stop in front of the door to Ron's room. She brushed her fingers over the peeling letters that made up his name, smiling. For a split second Hermione wondered if she should knock, but deciding against it, she turned the doorknob.

It was locked.

_That's weird,_ Hermione thought, frowning. She took out her wand and muttered "_Alohamora_," too tired to do it nonverbally. A click sounded from inside the doorknob and she turned it.

The door opened this time, but the sight that met her eyes made her sincerely wish that it hadn't.

Ron was sitting on the edge of his bed, the maroon comforter wrinkled, and a blonde girl was sitting on his lap. One of her arms was wrapped around his neck and the other was in his hair. He had his arms around the girl's waist and their lips were locked.

They were _kissing_. Well, actually, it looked more like a full blown snogging session. Hermione felt the chicken that she had eaten for dinner make its way back up her throat. She gulped loudly, trying to push it back down into her stomach. At first she was too shocked to do anything but clench her fists, her wand letting out dangerous red and green sparks.

"Sorry to interrupt," Hermione finally said, anger flashing through her eyes. The kissing couple looked up, just then noticing that she was in the room as well. It was when they looked at her that Hermione realized that the blonde girl was Astoria Greengrass.

Astoria giggled, sliding off of Ron's lap and onto his bed with a soft thud. Ron stood up, face and ears red from embarrassment. He ran a hand through his mussed up hair, trying to flatten it out. He then turned to face Hermione, whose fists were shaking where they sat on her hips and her face twitching with anger.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Hermione said in a dangerous whisper, her voice quavering. "You better have a damn good excuse or I'm going to curse you from here to Jupiter." The sparks were still shooting out of her wand.

"Well, I…I…" Ron croaked, his ears the same color as his maroon comforter.

"Were you Imperiused?" Hermione asked, taking a step closer to him.

"No…" Ron murmured.

"Are you not actually Ron, but some bloke who drank Polyjuice Potion?" Hermione drew out her wand, tears welling up in her eyes.

"No…I'm Ron," he answered, biting his lip.

"Well then, you're out of excuses aren't you?" Hermione snarled, shooting a stream of spiders out of her wand. They landed on the floor and encircled Ron's feet.

His face paled, though his ears remained the same dark shade of red. He took his own wand out and the spiders vanished.

"Is this the first time you two have met? Was it _love_ at first sight?" Hermione was working hard to keep her voice steady and the tears from falling.

"Err…" Ron started.

"Actually! We've met before," piped in Astoria Greengrass, who acted as though she was totally clueless to the situation.

"You have, have you?" Hermione picked up a large textbook.

"Oh, but don't worry Mudblood, nothing has happened before today," Astoria continued, smiling.

Hermione glared at her. She threw the textbook hard at Ron's nose, oddly satisfied when she heard it break.

"What the hell was that for 'ermione?" Ron said thickly, wiping the falling blood with the back of his hand.

"What the hell was that for?" Hermione repeated incredulously. "That was for being the worst boyfriend a girl could ask for." She let out a sob as one tear fell down her cheeks. She started to leave but then stopped when he spoke.

"So, I guess we're over?" he said.

"Yeah, I guess we are," she responded, walking out the door, letting it slam closed behind her.

* * *

**Author's Note Again: **Oh no, Ron!! Well, I hope that you enjoyed this second chapter. The catalyst for the plot is in this chapter. x] Please review because it makes me happy. ^___^


	3. Charcoal Skies and Pearly Oceans

**Author's Note: **First off, I am so sorry that it took me a while to update. I've been sidetracked by my sister's birthday and learning to drive. (I haven't crashed yet! xD) Secondly, thank you to everybody who has added this story to their story alerts or to their favorites. It makes me really happy. [: Thirdly, this chapter is so bad it depresses me, I deeply apologize. xD But I hope you enjoy it anyways! So…here we go!

**Disclaimer: **The likelihood of me ever owning Harry Potter is zero. Although, I do have some nice HP bed sheets. xD (I also own the random book and this fanfic.)

**Ruby Skies and Emerald Oceans**

Chapter Three: Charcoal Skies and Pearly Oceans

"Are you sure you would like another glass of Firewhiskey, dear? From my experience I find that other people who drink it for the first time are happy with just one glass—"

"I don't care about other people!" Hermione cut off Madame Rosmerta, glaring at the curvy barmaid through her puffy red eyes. "I just—it feels good, that burning sensation. Now I know why he always…always drank it."

"Who, dear?" asked Madame Rosmerta gently, placing another glass of steaming liquid on the counter in front of Hermione.

Hermione took a small sip of whiskey, wincing as her insides filled with the feeling that her very organs were melting into goo. "Ron," Hermione sniffed finally. "Ugh! He's such a—such a—such a _bastard!_" She slammed down the glass hard on the counter, the contents steaming dangerously.

The owner of the Three Broomsticks smiled sympathetically, patting the younger woman on the hand. "There, there, dear. Breakups are tough. Here have some; it'll help." She took out a bar of Honeyduke's best chocolate from a cabinet and slid the whole thing over to Hermione. "Trust me." She smiled once more before walking away to a table where a group of neighborhood hags sat.

Once the sound of Rosmerta's heels clanking against the wooden floor had become inaudible, Hermione tore off the wrapper of the chocolate bar and broke off a piece. It was…good. She broke off another piece, stuffing it into her mouth. She then took a sip of her Firewhiskey, liking the exotic taste of the two things mixing together. Maybe if she dropped the rest of the bar into her glass, then—

"Hermione Granger. What a…pleasant surprise." At the sound of her name, she looked up from staring at her glass to see the pale, pointed, face of one Draco Malfoy.

"Eggs, bacon, and toast, Rosmerta." Draco turned his attention now towards the barmaid who nodded and pointed her wand at a clean plate. She handed the plate to him, which he gratefully took. "So," he started conversationally, turning his head slightly to look at Hermione.

"What?" Hermione asked, irritated, taking a giant gulp of her drink which left only a few drops of liquid and lots of steam.

"How are—" he paused, a smirk appearing. "Firewhiskey? At 8 in the morning? Merlin Granger, last night you were abstaining from all alcoholic beverages but now…" Hermione shot him a questioning gaze. "The wedding, Mudblood, the wedding," he reminded the woman who was peering into her empty glass, as though willing more to appear.

She quickly looked at him, then back down at her glass, feeling her eyes water up. "Oh right, the wedding…" she muttered, raising a hand to her temple and rubbing it. "Excuse me, Rosmerta? Another glass please."

Draco, however, put his hand over her glass and said in a low drawl, "Maybe, Rosemerta, you could interest this young lady with a nice glass of Butterbeer instead." When Hermione turned to glare at him, he held up his hands defensively. "I think that you've been having too much to drink is all. It's pathetic really. Haven't you heard the rule of 'no drinking Firewhiskey before 5 in the afternoon?'"

"No, what kind of rubbish is that?" scoffed Hermione, glaring at her glass that was now filled with Butterbeer.

"I live my life by that rubbish. Maybe you should try too. It's unhealthy and unattractive to drink this early." There was silence between the two for a few minutes before Draco said, "Actually, I'm glad I found you Granger."

"You are?" Hermione questioned, suspicion and surprise in her voice. "Why?"

"Don't need to sound all suspicious. I actually have a favor to ask of you. A pretty big favor, but..."

Hesitantly, Hermione said, "Er…what is this favor?"

"Well, I think that this whole thing is kind of my fault, but because of the number of accidents that have been happening to Auror trainees lately," he coughed guiltily, "the Ministry has added one additional thing we have to do in order to become Aurors. Ruddy gits." He rolled his eyes. "The Auror office is creating a two month long course that is basically 'Advanced Healing and Potion Making.' The catch is that we need to be supervised by a fully fledged healer the whole time." Draco ran a hand through his hair. "It'll probably start after your day is done—around 6 in the afternoon, but it's a three hour long course." He continued speaking, looking anywhere but at Hermione. "You're the only healer I know well enough to ask. So I was just wondering if you weren't too busy and if it wouldn't be too tiring—if you could be my supervisor." A pause. "I would be really…" Another pause. "Grateful," he finished, flushing slightly.

Hermione bit her lip. She had to admit that seeing an embarrassed Draco asking politely for her help was a first time thing. It almost made her agree. Almost. "Do all of the trainees attend the class at the same time?"

"Yeah. Makes sense doesn't it? I mean…I know Weasel will probably—"

"I can't," Hermione cut him off. "Sorry. I've just been tired and busy. You know—the hospital."

"Oh, okay." Draco shrugged with a cold indifference, before jeering, "Speaking of which…please, do not tell me that you're going to the hospital soon, you'll end up cursing somebody's brain right out of their skulls…"

For a second, she was at a loss for words—surprised at the sudden change of character. "Well…well…I never liked drinking much, but I think that this is a special exception," she muttered, still having not taken a sip of her non-alcoholic beverage, "And today's my day off."

"Well, if it's your day off, then why don't you go out to eat breakfast with Weasley? I don't know how much he would enjoy seeing his beloved hammered." He dangled a piece of bacon over his mouth, nibbling at it.

"I am not hammered. I only had two glasses. Not to mention the fact that I have an amazing amount of self control…Plus," she sniffed, "I don't think that Ronald really cares about what happens to me anyways."

He cocked his head sideways, chewing thoughtfully, "What do you mean Weasel wouldn't care? I thought you two were like this." He crossed the middle finger and index finger of his left hand, holding it in her face.

Annoyed, Hermione swatted his fingers away. "Well, if you must know Malfoy, Ron and I broke up last night." Draco's mouth dropped open, which was extremely unattractive as it was still full of food. "Oh gross. Close that thing right now. Anyways, after the wedding…" She retold the whole story to him, rich with details, as her lip quivered and salty tears made their way down her cheek.

"Weasel-bee cheated on you with Astoria?" He gave a harsh laugh. "He is pathetic, really. Sure, she is prettier than you and probably more experienced—"

Hermione let out a wail, feeling worse and worse every time Draco opened his food filled mouth to speak. "I'm a damsel in distress, Ferret. If you can't say anything comforting, then you should just sod off." She did a very rude hand gesture with the hand that wasn't clutching her glass of Butterbeer.

"You should get drunk more often, it sure makes my mornings interesting," he smirked, buttering his toast.

"I am not drunk!" Hermione exclaimed, slamming her glass of Butterbeer onto the wood surface with so much force that half of the liquid sloshed out of the glass and onto the counter.

Draco rolled his eyes, cleaning the mess with a quick "_Scourgify_" and a lazy wave of his wand. "Right. That would explain why you're spilling out your heart's contents to me while sobbing like a two year old denied ice cream," he said, sarcasm oozing from every word.

"Ha ha," she said humorlessly, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her wrinkled dress robes.

After finally getting home the night before (the shocking events had affected her in a way she hadn't known possible, causing her to lose the ability to Apparate, which forced her to take muggle transportation), Hermione had decided against showering or changing, deciding instead to just collapse on her unmade bed, fully clothed. That morning, when the brunette awoke with a headache the size of France and puffed eyes, Hermione only brushed her teeth and splashed water over her face before Apparating to the first place that came to mind—the Three Broomsticks.

The blonde man, currently using his wand to shape his scrambled eggs into one large and lumpy yellow lion, shot a sidelong glance at his companion. "Damn Granger, you look like you just got out of a three month imprisonment in Azkabam," he said, as if reading her mind.

Hermione glared at him, partially because his comment stung and partially because she knew he was right. She touched her hair, which had been perfectly styled the day before, and was now back to its normal bushy frizzball state. She didn't need a mirror to know that her eyes were red, puffy, small, and surrounded by purple bags. _I really should have taken my makeup off before I fell asleep last night,_ she thought, _or at least changed. Honestly. I mean what would Ron—oh that's right. Nevermind._

"You're right," she sighed finally, suddenly wishing for a shower.

"Of course I'm right," Draco smiled smugly. "I would say 'filthy Mudblood,' but I don't think I need to." His smug smile grew and he earned a glare from Hermione.

"Well, let's see _you _break up with somebody who you thought loved you more than life itself and care about personal hygiene. But," Hermione added, feigning a thoughtful expression. "I doubt that something insignificant like having your heart broken and stepped on by ten giants would affect you much, seeing as you care about how you look more than you could ever care about another human."

Draco raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Almost got poetic there for a second, Granger." He flipped his bangs obnoxiously and lazily cut his lion shaped scrambled eggs.

"Wait! When did your eggs become a lion? And why are you stabbing it? You annoying—"

He smirked, shoving some of the yellow mush into a fork. "Want some?" was all he said, pointing the utensil in her direction.

The disgusted look that crossed her face made it pretty obvious that she would not be eating breakfast foods shaped like lions for a very long time. "Ugh, you're such a Slytherin."

Draco shrugged, stuffing the food into his mouth. "So, what are you gonna do about Weasel?" he finally said when he had swallowed. He spoke as though they had been discussing this matter the whole time.

"What do you mean?" Hermione scrunched up her nose in confusion, eying one of the half pieces of toast that were on Draco's plate.

He handed over one of the triangular pieces of bread to her and she accepted it, wide eyed. "You're welcome." He allowed a small grin to flicker momentarily on his lips, obviously amused by her shock. A few seconds later, he had gone back to viewing her with his usual mask of indifference. "What I mean is: Are you gonna get over losing the lamest guy on the planet any time soon?" Hermione shrugged, buttering her toast. "Well, it's obvious that this has hurt you on a deep psychological level. What's with that look? I know big words too you know. Anyways, what I mean to say is how about some nice…revenge?"

"Revenge?" Hermione repeated, as though saying it would help her make sense of the craziness coming out of Draco's mouth.

"_Revenge_!" Draco exclaimed, somewhat irritated now, as he had expected Hermione to understand the second the words left his mouth.

"I don't understand." Hermione tilted her head slightly and saw him open his mouth, but she cut him off by retorting with, "And how about you stop saying the word _revenge._ Repeating a word over and over again won't help me understand the concept any better."

The boy sneered, leaning on his stool so his weight was supported solely by the back two legs. "Hermione 'I-Swallow-Every-Book-I-Touch' Granger doesn't understand something? Merlin, where is Rita Skeeter when you need her? I'm sure this could make the front page of the evening _Prophet_."

"If you fall backwards and bash your head open, I'll be laughing you know," Hermione smirked from her stool that had all four legs on the ground.

Draco's sneer grew and he slowly lowered so that all four legs of the stool solidly stood on the ground. "Malfoys don't bash their heads open."

"No, you're right; they enlarge them to the size of a giant's torso."

Gray eyes glared at unblinking brown ones and after a few seconds, Draco turned his face to stare uninterested at some funny dressed wizards. Hermione almost audibly sighed in relief: His cold, calculating gaze was enough to unnerve anybody at nine in the morning.

"Anyways, revenge," he said. She shot him a look, knowing that he only said the word to annoy her. "What I mean is…if Weasel hurt you this bad, then you ought to pay him back." Something glimmered in Hermione's eyes. "You should do something to make him feel so bad for cheating on you, he'll be begging for mercy or for you back by his side."

"And when he does that…I'll crush him as bad as he crushed me." The glimmer in Hermione's eyes evolved into a hungry glint of desire for revenge.

Her words and the look in her eyes apparently either amused or freaked out Draco, because his eyes grew wide and his blonde eyebrows disappeared high up his forehead. "Er—Granger…you okay? I'm starting to think that I'm a bad influence, because you are acting very Slytherin."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Hermione smugly ran a hand through her hair to flip it (very Draco-ish she thought), but when her fingers got tangled in the mess she realized exactly _why_ she had never attempted this particular maneuver before.

A minute of finger and hair untangling later, the woman said, "The only problem is I have no idea how to…how to…" A dazed, far off expression took over her face and she allowed the sentence to trail away to nothingness.

Unimpressed by this, Draco threateningly pointed a piece of strawberry jam covered toast in her direction. "What?" he snapped.

"Well, I was just remembering this book I finished reading a few weeks ago…one of those sappy romance novels."

He snorted, "Never really took you as the girl to read about other people's stupidity and drama."

"Well, Kendra actually lent it to me; she picked it up in Flourish and Blotts and really enjoyed it. I sometimes like to read feather light stories and it wasn't too bad. Yes, I know. Shocker right?"

"Merlin, if you give it that kind of review, maybe I'll pick it up too. What's the title?" asked Draco in a mock girly voice.

Shivers ran through her body and she prayed that Draco was never this creepy again. "If you must know, it's called _Charcoal Skies and Pearly Oceans._" He blinked at her, mouth twitching. "Yes, it is a rather strange name…but it kind of makes sense once you read it."

"Really now?"

"The story is about a dark hearted girl, whose aura is often described as charcoal black, and a very kind and pure boy, who is described throughout the story as having a pearly white aura. I don't get it much myself, but I guess the title has a nice flow, even if it's only slightly relevant," Hermione frowned.

Draco looked contemplative for a few seconds before he snapped back to reality, a sneer newly plastered on his face. "So, tell me, _why_ are we discussing this book that was clearly written for lonely middle aged witches?"

"Because." Hermione looked meaningfully back at the sneering man. "It gave me an idea." She paused, more for dramatic effect than anything else. "In the story, charcoal girl's boyfriend breaks up with her. Feeling hurt, but still very much in love with him, she devises a plan to get him back. She enlists the help of her friend—pearl boy. To make a medium sized story short: they pretend to be together in order to make the boyfriend jealous."

"And then what happened?"

"Well, I can't tell you what happens in the end, it would spoil it for you," Hermione smirked.

"Yeah, because I would read that annoying and original idea-less book. Let me guess, she ends up falling for the pearl guy," he said.

A sound like that of a buzzer came out of Hermione's wand. "That is incorrect! She actually ends up with her boyfriend, like she had planned."

"Talk about character undevelopment and anticlimaxes. So," he eyed her carefully, "what idea are you cooking up in that large brain of yours?"

Another compliment! Hermione grinned despite the aching feeling in her heart (and her head too…an after-effect of the Firewhiskey?) "I'm glad you asked," she said finally, still grinning. "I'm going to go find a guy to pretend and be my boyfriend. Just to make Ron angry and jealous. He's a very jealous person…very…and that will be working to my advantage. For once."

"But, who would volunteer to be your fake boyfriend? Because, no offense, once you take your abnormal sized brain out of the equation…you're not really much of a catch, Granger," he chuckled.

Hermione, offended by this, considered flinging the crust of her toast at the laughing Draco. "Don't be a prat, Ferret. I'm sure I could find somebody. Somebody who could be very convincing. Somebody who wouldn't get attached to me. Somebody that would make people gossip about our relationship. Somebody Ron sees a lot. Somebody who would easily rile Ron up. Somebody like…" The gears in Hermione's brain were turning very quickly. "Somebody like you," she finished, surprised herself by the words that had just come out of her mouth.

The pumpkin juice that Draco had been calmly drinking during her "out loud thinking time" came flying back out of his mouth and nose. He made a choking sound and Hermione patted his back, wide eyed and concerned. When he had finally regained his composure, he swatted Hermione's hand away and slammed his goblet onto the table.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?" he whispered, mortified, glaring at her. There was a silence between the two of them before Draco burst out laughing: A loud, forced, obviously fake, "nutcase-status crazy" laugh. All chatter and noise ceased in the crowded room. Even Rosmerta's red high heels had stopped clanking, though this was due to the fact that the owner of the shoes had also stopped clanking around. Hermione was looking at Draco with the same expression she wore when he had been choking.

As quickly as it had come, the laughter had stopped and Draco had said louder than was necessary, "You're joking right? That was a joke?" He hesitantly laughed again.

A group of teenagers in the corner yelled something about Draco needing special care at St. Mungo's and he had yelled back to them a string of insults and swear words—some that Hermione had never heard used before, but that made many of the older wizards mutter about kids and their manners. One glare from Draco later, all the noise and chatter had returned and the two 21 year olds were left in a staring contest.

"I wasn't joking," Hermione finally replied, an amused smile tugging at her lips, when she looked away from his stare.

"But—but—" Draco stuttered. "Do you have any idea what this will do to my reputation? It will be everywhere. The Wizarding World loves their fresh dose of gossip and they'll slurp it up. What about my parents? Do you not understand that all the rumor creating, people crushing magazines—_Witch Weekly_, _The Magic Generation_, _Wizard Today_—all have the best journalists. I mean these people have a way of finding out everything and they'll publish anything as long as it's interesting and somewhat plausible. It's like an army of little Rita Skeeters!"

He looked around the pub, a wild look in his eyes, as though expecting one hundred grinning Rita Skeeters and their Quick Quotes Quills to jump up from behind a potted plant.

Hermione however, smirked. "Exactly."

The blonde man's mouth fell open in shock. "What?" he bellowed. "You _are_ out of your mind. Granger I can't—I don't want—I'll get _dirty_!"

"Look, Malfoy," Hermione hissed, her outrageously bushy hair and red puffy eyes making her look more threatening than normal. This whole "Malfoy acting like a nervous mess to get out of being a pawn in her scheme" thing was getting old fast. Also, though it was probably caused by the Firewhiskey, she felt a sudden rush of something a lot like adrenaline enter her blood stream.

"I'm not asking for you to fall in love with me," she continued coolly, "I'm just asking you to do a little bit of er—business with me."

"Business?" Draco inquired, running a hand casually through his hair. He acted so calmly now that it was though the Grade O Malfoy Flip Out had not even happened. His eyes slightly lifted with that of interest. He propped his elbows on the table so that his hands—his fingers loosely intertwined—made a perfect resting place for his pointed chin.

"Yes, business," Hermione nodded slowly. "I really need your help Malfoy. The more that I think of it, the less crazy this whole plan becomes."

"What do I get?"

"I'll pay you," she offered, having a feeling that he would shoot down this offer in a second.

And she was not disappointed. "Granger, I have access to so much money that I could not work another minute and still be able to live a good life until I die. If I'm going to go through this torture…I better get something good out of it." He chuckled almost _greedily_. "And no," he added, when Hermione opened her mouth to speak, "the satisfaction of Weasel King being angry, jealous, and publicly humiliated is certainly not good enough for me. Though, I would pay to see it."

Hermione closed her mouth unhappily and grinded her molar teeth in concentration. "Would you do it in order to help bring joy and happiness back into my life?" He snorted, not even bothering to answer with words. "Yeah…I knew it."

All her other ideas which included a year supply of cauldron cakes, writing a book about him, and being his personal slave for a month—which almost tempted Draco though (much to Hermione's annoyance) he said that he already _had_ a House Elf—were shot down immediately by the former Slytherin.

"Ugh," said Hermione, reaching the end of her patience with the man and finally losing that post-Firewhiskey adrenaline buzz. "How about I treat you for free at the hospital and—" She stopped talking and her mouth opened in an O shape.

Draco said nothing, but growled impatiently, having also reached the end of his patience.

She could have hit herself. How could she have forgotten about it until just now?

"Your favor!" Hermione said, somewhat excited again. Draco tilted his head slightly. "I'll do it. If you need a healer to watch over you so you can become an Auror—I'll be that healer."

"Really?" asked Draco, apparently having forgotten temporarily about what the reason was behind Hermione's sudden agreement. "That would be great. I really don't enjoy working with people I don't know and healers are bloody annoying."

"I'll be that healer," she continued as though uninterrupted, "if and only if you pretend to be my boyfriend or interested in me or whatever."

Draco bit his lip. "I have a feeling that I'll end up involved in your crazy antics no matter how many offers I deny. So…" He paused, looking over at Hermione as though sizing her up. "I might as well take you up on the only thing I want. I guess I'm in." But under his breath he murmured, "Crazy witch."

The brunette woman absolutely beamed at him, ignoring his under the breath remark. "It's a deal." She stuck out her hand and he grasped it quickly, but then let go, wiping his hand on his robes as though he had just touched something dirty. Hermione rolled her eyes. "We'll probably have to work on that."

"So…how is this going to work anyways? Don't we need somebody on the 'inside'…to feed the Weasel Git lies about _us_." he cringed at the word. "Other than whatever media coverage we'll be able to receive that is. But I mean…what would be the point of going on dates if Weasel can't see us on them? This isn't Hogwarts you know; it's harder in the real world."

Hermione's face fell as her eyebrows knotted together in concentration. "You've got a point…" She was silent for several minutes, thinking hard. Finally she spoke, a small satisfied smile on her lips. "I think that I have some ideas…"

* * *

**Author's Note Again: **Yay! So, I guess…it didn't turn out half bad, although it was all set in one place and was kind of slow. ^^;; Heh, heh. But on the bright side…the plot is starting. I mean…sure the end of last chapter was the catalyst…but now it's starting, it's really starting! I hope that everything so far has sounded…plausible…and if not, please tell me. Oh and also: How do you like the way I not-so-subtly tried to provide some sort of explanation to my pretty random title? lol.

With that said—please review. [:


End file.
